Chapter 1031: The One with Cheats and the Ones Running Blind
Admiral Jervis pressed the report down onto his desk and looked up at the head of the Navy Board's investigation team.
"Are you quite certain this isn't some sort of joke?"
After nearly ten days of detailed investigation, the Navy Board had concluded that the cause of the Avenger's accident was—due to intoxication—the logistics officer had mistakenly loaded coal soaked in seawater onto the ship, causing the boilers to fail. The warship itself had no serious technical flaws.
Yesterday, a poor junior officer had already been hauled before a military tribunal. He was expected to be sentenced to five to eight years. However, a massive sum of two thousand pounds sterling had mysteriously appeared in his wife's account at the Bank of England, which prompted him to confess to the crime with remarkable enthusiasm.
The head of the investigation team nodded guiltily, glancing toward Sir Middleton, the Comptroller of the Navy Board, who had accompanied him. This investigative result had been personally handed to him by the Comptroller.
In Britain, the Naval Committee and the Navy Board were two distinct entities.
The former was responsible for warfare, headed by the First Lord of the Admiralty, Jervis.
The latter handled shipbuilding, supplies, and the administrative management of officers. While Jervis served as a member of this board as well, daily affairs were managed by the Comptroller.
Middleton immediately offered a faint smile. "Let us not allow the investigation to waste any more time. You see, the Chatham Royal Dockyard has been at a complete standstill during this period."
In reality, Hope's promise to him was that if they secured an investment from the Government Investment Fund, the Navy Board could reduce its expenditure by twelve percent. That money, of course, would remain in his own accounts.
Hearing this, Jervis's brow finally relaxed. "The delivery schedule remains unchanged?"
"Naturally. I give you my word."
"In the future, any coal brought on board must be strictly inspected."
The two men shared a look and a smile, a situation where everyone was greatly pleased.
In a small bookstore, Portier held a small slip of paper over a candle flame until it caught fire.
There was only a single, simple line written upon it: The plan is proceeding smoothly.
Once the paper had turned to ash, he picked up a copy of The Art of Performance from the side, flipped it open, and shook his head with a light chuckle.
"Earning this meager salary from the Security Bureau is truly a hassle. I find myself missing the days when I worked for Lady Lavisia..."
At that moment, in far-off Paris, Lady Lavisia was also deeply missing her 'Compass.'
After Portier had resigned, her life had instantly descended into utter chaos.
She let out a heavy sigh and waved her hands, shouting at her husband and the Baron de Prilly, who were currently drawing their swords for a duel in the middle of the street.
"I beg of you, for the love of God, stop fighting!"
...
Inside the Guildhall on the east side of London Bridge, the management committee of the British Government Investment Fund was formally voting on the first batch of investment projects.
Indeed, after several months of repeated study and bickering, the management committee had remained unable to decide on the investment sectors or the amounts.
Every committee member made excellent points, yet they could reach no consensus.
Ultimately, the chairman of the committee, Sir Malik, suggested to Parliament that they should openly accept applications and allow the committee to vote on the fund's investment plan.
In truth, a concept like a Government Investment Fund was fundamentally ill-suited for the information-starved eighteenth century.
The technical direction of industrialization was still unclear. If the government concentrated massive amounts of capital into a single project and the decision proved wrong, the losses would be catastrophic.
In such circumstances, it was far more appropriate to let the market guide investment, just as it had happened historically.
What about France?
France had a 'cheat code,' ensuring their investment direction would never be wrong. Therefore, the more concentrated the investment and the higher the amount, the greater the returns would be.
This was something other nations simply could not replicate.
However, the rapid momentum of French development made it difficult for certain countries not to harbor thoughts of imitation.
As music began to play in the background, Sir Malik took the stage to deliver an opening speech. It was filled with platitudes about the glorious future of Great Britain before he signaled to his assistant.
"Now, we shall begin the voting for the investment applications."
His assistant stepped forward and picked up the first application.
"The Kovak Steel Company of Birmingham is requesting a bailout investment of one hundred fifty thousand pounds..."
He proceeded to read the entire application.
The content essentially stated that Kovak Steel was in good operational health but had faced a stock market collapse due to malicious dumping by the Dutch, leaving them currently insolvent.
If the government invested, they could recover the costs and begin profiting within three to four years. Alternatively, the Government Investment Fund could take a controlling stake in the company.
The fourteen members of the management committee whispered among themselves—in truth, they had discussed these projects countless times already, but they still had to put on a show—and then people began to raise their hands.
Sir Malik announced loudly, "Six votes in favor, eight against. The application is rejected."
Several shareholders of Kovak Steel standing below the stage were stunned, their eyes instantly turning red.
This had been their last chance. If they didn't receive the investment, bankruptcy was almost a certainty.
Of course, the logic of the management committee was also sound.
Britain had so many steel mills that they wouldn't miss this one. It was better to invest the capital in more useful areas.
Malik's assistant continued reading.
"The Wedgwood Holly-Chien Ceramic Company is applying for a fine white porcelain production project. Investment amount: ninety thousand pounds.
"...Through a series of processes, the quality will reach that of Eastern ceramics, while the cost will be only one-fifth of those imported from the East.
"The target market includes...
"Projected annual sales: over thirty thousand pounds.
"Profit margin: thirty-five percent..."
The members of the management committee nodded one after another. A product that could replace Eastern ceramics was indeed a high-quality project.
Sir Malik quickly announced the result: "Eleven votes in favor, three against. The application is approved!"
Cheers immediately erupted from below the stage.
"Next. The Leeds Fine Veil Textile Mill is applying for a new automated loom project. Investment amount: one hundred thirty thousand pounds..."
"Four votes in favor, ten against. The application is rejected."
The British textile industry had plenty of capital sources; there was no need for government fund investment. Furthermore, the textile market was currently saturated with very low profit margins, so the management committee was naturally uninterested.
"Next. The McArnit Ironworks of Birmingham is applying for a new blast furnace project. Investment amount: one hundred thousand pounds..."
"Three votes in favor, eleven against. The application is rejected."
"Next. The Chatham Royal Dockyard is applying for a new steam paddleboat project. Investment amount: five hundred thousand pounds."
The members of the management committee immediately began whispering to one another.
The Chatham Dockyard project had only been submitted ten days ago. Some of them were not yet familiar with it, and that five-hundred-thousand-pound investment figure was truly staggering.
However, as Malik's assistant continued to read the contents of the application, their eyes began to light up one by one.
This was absolutely a magnificent project!
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